


Cabin Cold

by MagdaTheMagpie



Series: Marvel & Magic [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Huddling For Warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagdaTheMagpie/pseuds/MagdaTheMagpie
Summary: All around him, nothing but the white expanse of Russian countryside smothered in snow. The landscape like a pure white canvas waiting for the first strokes of paint to give it some colour and life. Steve could barely see two feet in front of him and it was getting worse by the minute. No way was he going to find Sam in a snowstorm of this magnitude, much less pick up Bucky's trail.





	Cabin Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Marvelously Magical Bingo 2018!   
> Square I5: huddling for warmth

All around him, nothing but the white expanse of Russian countryside smothered in snow. The landscape like a pure white canvas waiting for the first strokes of paint to give it some colour and life. Steve could barely see two feet in front of him and it was getting worse by the minute. No way was he going to find Sam in a snowstorm of this magnitude, much less pick up Bucky's trail. He was not sure who to worry most for, or if he even should. Sam might have escaped the oncoming blizzard with his wings and flown to safety, while Bucky was too resourceful by half. Of course, Steve could be wrong… but he was not much better off himself. He hoped neither of them tried to come to his rescue and get hurt or lost in the process, but he wouldn't put it passed them: Sam was loyal to a fault, and Bucky, even brainwashed, had saved him once already. So he prayed they kept themselves safe and warm.

However, Steve didn't fancy getting frozen again, but he couldn't see a way out of a repeat of the “capsicle”, as Tony liked to put it. Everything, and he meant  _ everything _ , around him was white: the sky, the ground, the horizon. It was very disorienting, even for him, and stifling, as if the snow had replaced the air itself. Steve kept on walking ahead despite his own feelings of impending doom, because that's what Captain America did: he kept on fighting, he never gave up.

Steve Rogers, on the other hand, would do anything for a warm blanket and a cup of hot cocoa right about now.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his words snached away by the wind as soon as they left his mouth.

Natasha was right, cursing  _ was _ a stress-relief. Maybe he should stop harping on the others about it during missions. If it did a modicum of good, it put them at an advantage, and every little bit helped. Besides, it wasn't really hurting anyone except his old-fashioned sensibilities. 

Steve closed his eyes against a particularly vicious gust of wind which stung his face and stole his breath away. When he opened his eyes again, he was almost sure he had seen something dark North-North-East from his position, not even a mile away. But then he blinked against a snowflake and it was gone, replaced by the pure white nothingness once more. Even if he was wrong, it wouldn't put him too much off course, so Steve headed that way with a flicker of hope warming his heart.

God, he hated the cold.

Given the conditions, and despite being a super soldier, it took Steve almost thirty minutes to reach the little cabin he had spotted from afar. It was the smoke from the chimney that had given it away, so the place promised warmth, but it also meant it was occupied, and the million dollar question was: by who?

Sam? Bucky? Hydra? Fat chance. More likely, it belonged to some Russian woodcutter or fisherman or whatever else people did around this desolate place.

Steve knocked, to no effect. He tried once more, out of politeness, but when he got no answer, he pushed his way inside, then had to struggle to get the door closed again. Super strength was useless against the elements. Mother Nature would always win, as his sojourn in the ice had proven. She had been kind enough to release him when he had a chance at reuniting with Bucky, and for that, he would always be grateful despite losing everyone else. Finally, Steve glanced around the single room and found his host.

The woman stood in front of the fireplace, bundled in several layers of blankets of various colours. She was staring right back at him, her stance defensive as she pointed a knife in his direction. Steve immediately raised his hands, trying to recall what little Russian Natasha had taught him.

“Nay volyuissa… Drook?”

The woman frowned.

“I hope you're asking for tea, because I've got that much, but if you're here looking for trouble, you've got another thing coming, Mister.”

Steve blinked at her, the image of Peggy, so young and defiant, superimposed over this woman at seeing someone so very like her, speaking with that same charming British accent. He smiled sheepishly.

“I probably said it wrong anyway. I don't mean you any harm. I was just looking for shelter from the snow outside. My name is Steve. I'm American.”

“How do I know you're who you say you are?” she asked with narrowed eyes, taking a step closer but keeping the knife between them.

Truth be told, he wouldn't have any difficulty taking it from her, but he wasn't here to scare her. She already seemed badly shaken up and he wondered how she came to be here herself.

“I've got credentials in my pack,” he said, reaching a hand back to take it out of his small pack.

“Don't move. As if you can trick me that easily. If you lied, I'm kicking you out, so now's your chance to confess.”

She skirted around him and approached his bag, hesitating for an instant.

“Side pocket. There's a hidden zip near the strap.”

She nodded and fished out his identity card and SHIELD credentials, not that they were worth much now, but there was his picture and name.

“Steve Rogers,” she read without an inkling of recognition in her voice.

She walked back to face him and held up the picture next to his face to compare the two. Steve was glad he'd shaved himself clean that morning.

“Alright. But I'll be keeping my eyes on you for the next hour. I know all your tricks.”

Maybe she was a little crazy. Steve would be keeping an eye on her too in case she tried slitting his throat during the night. He shifted on his feet and glanced at the flames dancing in the chimney.

“You're welcome to go by the fire.”

She almost sounded like she meant it. Relieved, Steve dropped his shield and pack by the door, then decided to take off his boots because they were caked in snow and he didn't want to track little puddles everywhere in the small cabin. For the same reason, he took off his coat as well because it needed a good shake.

“You're a gentleman if I ever saw one,” the woman said with warmth in her voice for the first time. “Sit,” she then ordered and pointed at the couch, as if just remembering she didn't trust him.

The piece of furniture looked oddly out of place in the small cabin. Too big and luxurious. Comfortable too, he noted as he sank down in the leather cushions, and warm from its proximity to the fireplace.

“Thanks,” he said, bone tired now that he had a place to crash without the risk of freezing to death. Or freeze to sleep in his case.

A blanket was thrown over his body, already warm too. He glanced at the woman just as she was shedding another layer of blanket from her person.

“You don't have to-”

“Nonsense,” she cut him off. “You need it more than me. How long were you out there walking in the snow?”

“I'm not sure. Two, maybe three hours.”

“Three? Are you insane?”

Steve shrugged.

“I'm American.”

She scoffed, but was biting back a smile. Her knife was gone too, he noted.

“I’m surprised your bits haven't frozen off. I was out there for only an hour and I still can't feel my feet. Here, drink this,” she shoved a hot cup of tea in his hands. “Sorry I don't have anything to eat. I got caught out by the storm too.”

“But you had tea?”

“The cabin had tea… I left money to pay for it,” she added hastily.

Steve smiled at her. He would have done the same and gotten teased for it. He was glad to find a kindred spirit for once.

“You trust me now?” he asked, perplexed by her erratic behaviour. 

He couldn't make head nor tails of her.

“You're not who I feared you might be.  _ He _ wouldn't be so… polite. He certainly wouldn't have taken his boots off.”

Steve frowned. Someone was after her? Someone who meant her harm? That would explain why she had been on the defensive, suspicious and downright hostile when he had barged in uninvited. She's have thought she was under attack,which made him feel guilty for thinking she might be a lunatic. 

“Are you in any danger? Do you need help?”

She smiled, but it was all crooked, all wrong.

“Under normal circumstances, I'd tell you to piss off.”

“But?” he prompted.

She huffed and sat next to him, pulling her blankets more tightly around her, then wringing her hands for a good minute. Steve waited her out. He was patient if nothing else.

“I was chasing this man,” she began and Steve held his breath, thinking of Bucky.

But she couldn't be Hydra. Hydra would have killed him on the spot, or poisoned his tea at the very least. Yet, he was still breathing. Just a coincidence, then.

“He's a convict on the run and I volunteered to go after him because… Well, I don't have a good reason, per say, or rather, not one I can be proud of.” She glanced at him and Steve did his best to school his features into polite interest rather than disapproval. It must have been good enough because she continued. “He tried to kill me as a kid and I just can't stand knowing he's out there, free. I'm just out for revenge, in the end. Can't say I'm proud of it, and even less so at how miserably I failed.”

Steve's eyebrows shot up. Whatever he'd expected, this wasn't it.

“I underestimated him. Clearly. I tracked him all the way to Russia, but this is his mother country. I forgot in my haste to get to him, and paid for it. Honestly, with a name like Dolohov, that was pretty stupid on my part. He took my weapon and I barely managed to escape, but now, I'm trapped here in the middle of nowhere, freezing my tits off... Go on, you can laugh now.”

“I wasn't-” but then he imagined something like this happening to him, because God knows he'd pulled some stupid stunts when he was younger and he began laughing.

She followed suit and they ended up laughing together at their own idiocy. She sank down into the couch, looking relaxed in his presence now.

“Thanks, I needed that,” she said. “I’m Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger,” she added, holding out her hand.

Steve took it, being careful not to crush it since it looked so small and dainty in his own. It was freezing too.

“Nice to meet you, Hermione Granger.”

“Oh! You're so warm already,” she said, then flushed and snatched her hand away.

Steve couldn't really tell her it was the super soldier serum acting up to fight off the cold. For one, she hadn't made the connection herself and might, in some unbelievable twist of fate, not know about Captain America, and secondly, it was nice to be treated as just some normal person for once. So he took off one layer of blankets instead of trying to explain himself and draped it around her shoulders.

“I had a good nurse.”

She scoffed, but wouldn't meet his eyes, nor did she object him giving back one of her blankets, pulling it tighter around herself instead, her hands disappearing in the folds.

“I hope you realize it's your turn now. I told you my story, now you have to tell me yours. How did you get here?”

Steve clenched his jaw. He didn't like the idea of talking about Bucky to a relative stranger, but she had a point. And she didn't even know Captain America, so he felt relatively safe speaking about Bucky.

“Believe it or not, but I was chasing this man,” Steve said, echoing her own story.

“What, really?” 

“Yep,” Steve said with a chuckle. “What were the odds, right? He's not a convict, though. He's my childhood friend, like a brother really. I thought I'd lost him, a long time ago. I mourned him, but he didn't die that day. Lost his memory though, or part of it… I'm not sure. He's running away now, even from me. I think he's afraid.”

Hermione's eyes were suspiciously moist as he spoke, so he looked away.

“Afraid of what?” she asked softly.

Steve wasn't sure himself. It could be any number of things depending on how much of Bucky or the Winter Soldier there was in him. He could even be somebody else entirely: a new person born from the ashes of the other two.

“His past, his future…” Steve shrugged. “I don't know, but I will do anything to help him regardless.”

Hermione chuckled.

“You remind me of this friend I have. I keep telling him he has this saving-people thing. He can't help it. If he knew I was stranded here, he'd drop everything and be on his way.”

Steve smirked. If only she knew who his alter ego was, she'd find it funny too.

“Sounds like a good friend.”

“The best. Life has not been kind on him.”

This friend of hers sounded like someone he would get along well with. They had a lot in common in any case. Hermione shifted in her seat to add a log to the fire. Steve hoped she had more where that came from or they might not make it through the night. Which reminded him...

“Do you want me to leave you the couch to sleep,” he asked because she looked exhausted.

“Don't be silly,” she retorted as she snuggled back into her spot. “I don't take all that much space that I need all of this monstrosity for a bed. Besides, I doubt I can fall asleep knowing Dolohov is out there looking for me.”

Steve pressed his lips together to stop from saying he would protect her. He felt a bit insulted it didn't even cross her mind that he wouldn't let anything happen to her as long as he was there.

“Can't imagine it's very comfortable for you,” she continued. “But don't stay up on my account. You must be knackered after walking so long in the snow.”

Steve shook his head. He'd been cold, most of all, but he was fine now, protected from the icy, howling winds.

“I can't. I'm too worried about my friends. Bucky, that's the one running away, but Sam too. He was with me before the storm hit. He went scouting ahead, so I hope he managed to avoid the storm, but…”

“You worry anyway,” she finished for him 

Steve nodded as she bit her bottom lip. 

“I’d hate not knowing if my friends were out there lost in the snow… I know this is going to sound crazy, but do you have something of your friends?”

Steve looked at her pensively for a moment before realising she might be an enhanced human or a mutant. It's not like you could guess at first glance with most of them, himself included.

“I do actually” 

Steve always had a picture of Bucky on him and he still had Sam's spare goggles on him after Sam lent them to him because of the sun's glare on the snow. Sam had laughed his ass off when he wore them, but that was okay because he had such a happy laugh. He was a bit of a kid, really.

Steve handed her the goggles, not sure what to expect. She inspected them and nodded, then went to the kitchen corner of the cabin where she retrieved a large bowl. Then, she carved symbols on the sides with the knife she had previously used to threaten him with earlier. She was scarily good at it. Maybe it was for the best he hadn't tried to disarm her earlier because she might be able to give Natasha a run for her money.

“Okay, so don't freak out,” she warned as she placed her hands on either side of the bowl before closing her eyes. 

She looked… a bit crazy again, holding an empty bowl with such a look of concentration on her face. But then the bowl started filling up with water, or what he assumed was water since it was clear liquid. Could be vodka. They were in Russia, after all. Then she opened her eyes and glanced at him before adding the goggles to the bowl and staring into the clear pool of water as the goggles slowly sunk until they lay in the bottom. 

“Look,” she whispered, not breaking eye contact with the water.

Steve shifted closer and leaned in. A stray curl tickled him, but nothing could distract him from the image of Sam pacing in a hotel room, looking now and then through the window at the snow whipping past.

“That's Sam. It's him… right now?”

Hermione nodded, eyes on the bowl, but a smile on her lips.

“He's fine. You don't need to worry about him. Do you want to watch him some more, or-”

“Bucky,” Steve said, feeling like his name was always on the tip of his tongue nowadays.

The connection broke when she blinked and looked away from the bowl with a sigh. She emptied the bowl in the kitchen then began her ritual anew. Steve handed her the picture.

“It's Bucky. Before. If it doesn't work…”

She nodded gravely.

“He's a special case. Scrying is not my speciality, so I can't guarantee any results, or even explain a lack of them.”

She dropped the picture on the surface and it was sucked right in. Nothing happened for a while and fear twisted his stomach in knots, but then, gradually, an image appeared.

“Bucky.”

His hair was still too long and greasy, and he was bundled in so many layers it made him look bulky. But it was him, safe and curled in on himself somewhere dark.

“He's further away than Sam. I think that's why the image isn't as clear,” Hermione said.

Steve noticed the strain in her voice, then how she held the bowl with such force it made her knuckles stand out white. Steve grasped them so she would relax. They were still too cold.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

She looked at him and as expected, Bucky's image faded and vanished.

“That was amazing. Is it… some sort of magic?”

Hermione smiled and nodded.

“That’s the gist of it. You don't seem surprised, or afraid.”

“I've met people like you before.”

“Really?” 

“People with powers, yes. It's not all that uncommon nowadays.”

Her brow furrowed and he only now realized he was still holding her hands. He took the bowl instead to put it back in the kitchen area after retrieving his picture of Bucky and drying it off. He stopped by the door to grab his pack which was snow-free now, but sitting in a little puddle.

“Ah,” he said theatrically. “Thought so.”

He tossed one of the army rations he found at the bottom to Hermione, who fumbled to catch it before it dropped in her lap, then returned by the fireplace.

“Sam always slips some in. Told me he got stuck behind enemy lines with no food once, so he gets anxious if he doesn't have some rations with him. But then he makes me carry them around like I'm his pack mule and guess who doesn't have his damn rations now?”

Hermione laughed as she opened her share. 

“ _ He _ doesn't need them, though, does he?” she bit into the protein bar and made a face. “Merlin, this is terrible.”

“But filling right?” Steve grinned, having already finished his in two bites.

“Well, since it tastes like a brick, I'm not surprised it weighs on the stomach like one too.”

Steve chuckled. He  _ liked _ her. But he worried it was because she reminded him so much of Peggy. God knows that did  _ not _ end well. He hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come.

“But thanks, I appreciate it.”

They watched as the log slowly burned itself out. He didn't need to ask to know it was the last one. The crackle of wood and the flames soon died out while the wind howling outside sounded to have picked up in strength. Out from the elements, he should be fine, but he worried Hermione might not be able to withstand the cold. The cabin was obviously not insulated in any way and the warmth from the fire was already seeping out, but it had to be at least four more hours before the sun rose, and even then, they wouldn't be able to leave the cabin if the snowstorm didn't die down or they wouldn't make it very far.

The last few ambers died and the dark became almost palpable. They had talked on and off, of just about anything except what was really keeping them up, until he thought Hermione had finally fallen asleep since her last few words had sounded so drowsy. He couldn't know for sure with the darkness they were plunged in lest he poke her in the eye though. And the wind still howled outside. In fact, it was a miracle the cabin was withstanding the elements so well when they were so determined to plough through the land like a child having a tantrum.

A sound drew his attention: it wasn't loud but it was the only distraction from the storm so he couldn't help but pick it up. Worried the cabin really was coming undone, he rose and hunted for the origin of the sound. He didn't have to go far though.

Teeth chattering. He knew that sound, having made it himself more than not when he was a child, sick with fever or cold from the winter.  Teeth chattering! He could kick himself sometimes. In the dark, he had to feel around blindly for Hermione, an easy enough task since she was literally a bundle of blankets.

“Hermione?” 

She didn't answer except for the chattering teeth, and when Steve gave up finding one of her hands and found her cheek instead, it was cold, too cold.

“Damnit. Hermione? Wake up. We have warm you up.”

She roused, if only for an instant, muttering some unintelligible protest while nuzzling her face against his hand in search of warmth. Because he was warm, despite the circumstances. He was an idiot for not volunteering himself as a furnace, propriety be damned. He knew about sharing body heat in extreme circumstances, but never thought he'd find himself in such a situation himself, and not with a dame. No time for hesitation. This was a life or death situation. At least, it was pitch black, which would make things a little bit less awkward.

“C-cold,” she stuttered.

“I know, Hermione,” he said, relieved she was conscious when he started taking off her layers of blankets. “You're shivering. If I don't get you warm real quick, you might go into hypothermia and that could be fatal out here. I don't even know where here is, much less where the closest hospital is.”

Steve had her out of the blankets, feeling she was wearing a thick jumper and tight jeans which he imagined would be a nightmare to get her out of without her help. Just thinking about doing such a thing felt very wrong even if it was to help her.

“Steve,” she protested through chattering teeth, trying to pull her blankets back around her. “T-too c-cold.”

“I know,” he said. “I'm trying to help. You know about sharing body heat?”

“Y-yes. P-please. So c-cold.”

“Okay, well it's going to get worse before it gets better. Can you get out of your clothes?”

He could feel her fidget for a minute but then she whimpered and despite just having met her, he knew that was very unlike her.

“M-my hands.”

Steve nodded. He'd feared as much. He remembered Bucky fighting with all the buttons on his uniform as they traipsed throughout Europe in the middle of winter because of his cold, numb fingers.

“I'll do it. Don't think me any less of a gentleman.”

It wrenched a twisted sound out of her that might have been a laugh, but it alleviate some of his uneasiness. The jumper only had three very large buttons but even those she hadn't been able to undo. Three twists later he encouraged  her to take it off while he let his hands drift down to her waist, finding the button then the zipper. He started pulling down her jeans, trying very hard not to think of doing this in another situation entirely. The jeans weren't as hard to peel off as he'd thought, but only just, and now, he realized it was his turn. No time to be shy about it. In thirty seconds tops, he was down to his briefs. He reached for her hand.

“Come here. Lie down facing the back of the couch and I'll curl around you and pile the blankets on top. You should be warmed up in no time.”

“Hope s-so,” she said, not hesitating as she moved to the couch.

To think she had him at knifepoint just a few hours ago and now she was- Steve shook his head. No time to dwell on it. He spooned her from behind, careful not to touch anything he shouldn't as he laid his arm over her. Hermione sighed and really,  _ she _ shouldn't make such a sound under such circumstances, yet he could understand: the cold could seep into your very bones and soul, and make everything hurt, as if you were a thousand years old. Getting relief from such pain  _ would _ feel good.

Then her toes, like tiny little ice cubes, found their way between his legs and he hissed.

“S-sorry,” she mumbled and sighed again as she pressed herself more firmly against him.

Oh boy. Steve screwed his eyes shut, thinking very hard of the disgusting things in life: the sewers or New York city, that giant tentacle monster that they found there, naked Hulk, the war, Red Skull- Oh! Focus on Red Skull-. Yep, that was working nicely since it was both disgusting and made him angry.

Meanwhile Hermione's breathing had slowed down and he wouldn't be surprised she had fallen asleep. Her skin felt less cold already and her chattering teeth had finally stopped. He was just glad he'd realized in time she was nearing hypothermia. Letting go of the tension that had been running through him, he breathed in deeply, inhaling her perfume. She smelled nice. Soap. He smelled gain, dipping his nose to the crook of her neck. Just soap. Plain old soap. And he loved it.

 

Steve would always be an early riser, but he had gotten too little sleep lately and so, it was someone squirming in his arms who woke him up the next morning. It took him only a few seconds to recall the events of the night, but that had been enough for Hermione to freeze like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

“Feeling better?” he asked, trying to  sound as nonchalant as Tony ever did, hoping it would kill any awkwardness between them.

He wasn't sure it worked because she remained frozen for a full minute.

“I-” she stopped, huffed loud enough that he could hear her despite her facing the other way and then she rolled around on herself so she could face him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a burden last night.”

“Yes, because having a pretty, mostly naked dame sleep in my arms was a terrible chore. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.”

Definitely channeling his inner-Tony. He hoped he found the switch to turn it off soon, but it somehow made her laugh.

“I'm sorry I woke you, too. You must be knackered. But the sun is up and I think the storm had passed, so I wanted to check it out, and maybe get dressed before you woke up,” she added the last sheepishly.

“Ah, yes. So you could oggle me when it was my turn to put my clothes back on. Very sneaky of you, Hermione.”

Hermione stared at him wide eyed and he wondered for a brief moment if it had actually crossed her mind, especially when a light blush dusted her cheeks.

“I wouldnt-” she looked away, giving lie to her denial. “Are you always this snarky in the morning?”

Steve rose his eyebrows deliberately.

“You want to find out?” he teased.

This was just too easy. And fun. She huffed again.

“You're… impossible. Could you… erm… close your eyes maybe?”

Steve bit down on another teasing remark just begging to leap out of his mouth and politely closed his eyes with a promise not to look while Hermione, apparently not wanting to climb over him to get off the couch, which he could understand, chose to climb over the couch's back, landing with a dull thud that made him wince on the other side.

“Bloody-hell-it's freezing!” she hissed and he heard her pull her clothes back on. “Okay, I'm done. I'll do a perimeter check while you dress.”

Steve nodded, amused at the way she talked like a seasoned soldier. He didn't actually know what she did. Could be MI6 he supposed, but that's not the sort of information you just told anyone, the same way he hadn't just come out and said he was Captain America. He pulled on his clothes and his boots, adding on his coat because it was pretty cold after getting out of bed where he had held another's warm body in his arms all night. He was going to miss that. But he had more important things to deal with: get Hermione to safety, regroup with Sam, and find Bucky. After, maybe, when everything was settled down, he could contact Hermione again.

Speaking of, she walked back in with a smile on her face.

“All clear?” he asked.

“Sky as blue as a-” her face dropped. “Well never mind that. Shall we?”

“After you,” he replied and followed her out into the blinding sun.

Hermione had trouble walking in the twenty inches of snowfall but she stubbornly refused that he carry her despite his very convincing arguments that she weighed nothing, was slowing them down, had not eaten nearly enough and would burn herself out in no time. So he walked in front of her, trying to create a more suitable path for her to wade through, but he had to look back over his shoulder regularly so he didn't leave her too far behind. Her face was red and she was winded. He frowned, wondering why she had to be so stubborn, but soon realized the other women he knew would have refused to be carried around like a sack of potatoes too.

“Steve!” 

He whirled around at her hiss and she motioned for him to lay low, which he would have done anyway to follow her example. He unhooked his shield as he searched for the threat but couldn't see anything until she pointed up. Relief flooded him at first, thinking it had to be Sam, but the figure was all wrong, sitting in the sky, not flying like Sam did. It was facing away. They'd been lucky. Steve crawled towards Hermione, who looked very angry now and he knew who that was.

“Dolohov?”

She nodded. 

“Has to be. No one else knows I'm here.”

Certainty was painted all over her features, as well as fear. But he supposed that was justified since she was weaponless and her would be murderer twice over was searching for her. Steve dug into his pack for a spare gun. He only brought it because Sam insisted, but preferred by far using only his shield.

“Take it,” he told Hermione.

She stared at his gun then shook her head.

“I don't know how to use guns.”

That threw him for a loop. Definitely not MI6 then. Maybe some secret agency of mutants or the British version of the Avengers… Was there such a thing?

“What do you usually use?” he asked.

She bit her lip and glanced in Dolohov's direction.

“A wand. He does too. It's like… a magic wand.”

“Do we just have to take it away from him and he's powerless.”

“More or less. I don't know the extent of his wandless magic.”

It was new, he had to admit, but didn't sound like the worse villain he'd ever faced. One swing of his shield at his magic wand and it was done.

“How do you feel about being bait?”

“You can't be serious.”

“We can't lie in the snow all day. If he sees you, he'll think you’re alone again and straight up and attack you, right?” 

“Yes, probably.”

“Good. Take the gun, it will make him hesitate. Just… point it his way. Now cover me in snow and go catch his attention. I'll take care of him.”

“How the hell do you think  _ you _ can take care of him? He's a dark wizard!”

Well, that was definitely new.

“Trust me?”

She huffed then threw snow at him.

“Fine. Have it your way, but don't come complaining if he turns you into a gnat.”

And he couldn't ask if she was serious about that, because she threw more snow his way that landed right in his mouth. No time for arguing. He helped her cover himself as much as he could and lay in wait. It wasn't long before she was spotted. Hermione had just doubled back and must have made a bit of a scene because he heard muttered nonsense. Carefully, he poked a hole into the snow so he could see what was going on in that direction. 

Dolohov was actually flying on a broom. A wooden old fashioned broom. Like a witch… Despite the ridiculousness of it all, he did look dangerous as he landed in front of Hermione. She, in turn, looked dwarfed by the tall man, even as she stood her ground and held him in check with her gun.

“Resorting to muggle toys,  _ malen'kiy voin _ .”

Steve had no idea what that meant and neither did Hermione judging by her frown, but Dolohov almost sounded fond. Disturbing, to say the least, but Steve couldn't intervene before the man took out his wand, and he couldn't begin to guess why he hadn't already.

“Hand me my wand back, Dolohov. I know you have it.”

“Or what? You will use that gun on me. Niet. Ya tak ne dumayu.”

Steve knew those words. God knows Natasha muttered them often enough.  _ I don't think so. _ Dolohov was calling her bluff and took a step towards her.

“Stop. I'll shoot,” she warned and adjusted her aim.

Steve winced. She hadn't even taken off the security and Dolohov was taking another step forward. If he moved quickly now, she would be within his grasp and who knows what he would do. He hadn't even taken out his wand and seemed to think he didn't need it against a wandless Hermione despite the fact she was the one with a gun. Steve had no choice, he sprung from the light covering of snow, and flung the shield at him in such a way he would either have to take a hit or step away from Hermione. As expected he jumped back, just barely avoiding his shield which circled back to him.

“Who are you?” Dolohov seethed. 

“A friend of Hermione. Give her back her wand.”

The man sneered and raised his wand.

“Wrong answer,” he said and ran towards him.

Out of the corner of her eye, he saw Hermione's horrified expression illuminated by the purple light now emanating from Dolohov's wand. Still pointed at him, thank goodness, but maybe he should avoid it or better yet… Steve brought up his shield just as the light thrown his way was about to collide with him, sending it up in the air since he had no idea what it was supposed to do. He leaped the last few feet separating them and punched their attacker right in the face. He should have been knocked out cold, but something was wrong with the way the punch connected, as if punching through sludge. Dolohov merely reeled back and immediately retaliated with another spell. Steve managed to jump out of the way of it, then deflected another like the first.

Hermione was not kidding. The guy was more than competent adversary oand he could not find an opening to disarm him.

“No!” Hermione cried out when green light gathered at the tip of the wand, then she began  _ running _ at Dolohov. Her intention might have been to bowl him over, but she literally just bounced off him like a bug on a windshield.

The green light died away and Dolohov laughed as he picked her off the ground. Steve had his shield poised for attack, but it was useless now, too risky with Hermione in the way. Dolohov held her against him, like a shield of his own, with her feet dangling uselessly in the air as he whispered in her ear. Hermione looked sick, but far from defeated, she bit down hard on his hand, drawing blood and he threw her down at his feet.

Against all odds, Dolohov then took three hits at once: Hermione  _ threw _ the gun at his privates which distracted the man enough that Steve hit his wand hand, making him drop it and then Sam landed on him with both feet hitting him in the chest before he kicked him in the face for good measure.

“What took you so long?” Steve asked with a wide grin.

“Russia is really big in case you hadn't noticed. Saw some fireworks though. What are we celebrating?”

Steve punched him playfully in the arm and gave Hermione a hand up.

“Sam, this is Hermione. I met her during the snowstorm.”

“Ugh,” Sam said with an exaggerated wince at the punch. “Nice to meet you, Hermione. Who's the prick?”

“No one important now. I'm sending him back to prison. Thanks for the help, by the way. And nice wings. I have a few friends who'd love to check them out.”

“I bet you do,” he said with his most winsome smile.

Oh god, he was hitting on her, wasn't he? Sam was a terrible flirt, but Hermione completely ignored him, too busy going through her prisoner’s pockets until she retrieved a polished length of light wood with carving of leaves all around. Her wand. The smile that illuminated her face as she held it against her told him it was more than a weapon, maybe something akin to his shield, full of memories. For an instant, that smile was directed at him and she winked mischievously.

“Sam? Don't freak out, okay?” she said, echoing her words from the last time she had done magic.

Steve wasn't sure what to expect, but at least he was prepared to see something unusual. Sam, on the other hand, reeled back, cursing like a sailor when ropes coiled around Dolohov like snakes. Hermione then pinned a note to his front as if sending a package and suddenly, Dolohov vanished before their very eyes. Steve laughed at Hermione’s satisfied nod and Sam's bewildered look. She wasn't kidding about being able to do a lot more with her wand. She was powerful, more so than the Scarlet Witch, probably even more than Loki.

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on? Where did the creepy dude go?” Sam blurted out, sounding much less assured now.

“Like I said: to prison. With any luck, he won't escape again anytime soon, and since I'm here, how about I help you find this Bucky person?”

“You don't have to...” Steve argued, even though he felt she would be a great help in finding him, and the sooner, the better because he hadn't looked so well in her scrying bowl.

“Actually, I do. You saved my life, Steve. I owe you a life-debt, and its magically binding.”

“Can't you just… cancel it?”

“Even if I could, I wouldn't want to.”

Hesitating once more, Steve glanced at Sam who shrugged.

“Hell, if she can help find Bucky sooner, all the better for everyone, right?”

“It's decided then!” Hermione cheered.

Steve wasn't all that sorry he had accidentally roped her into helping him either, and Russia was so cold, he was hoping he might get a chance to warm her up again one of these nights.

  
  
  
  



End file.
